Undisclosed Desires
by Jean815
Summary: Hairdryers. Really? Who the hell has a phobia of hairdryers?


**Title:** Undisclosed Desires  
**Fandom:**Glee  
**Genre:** Romance/Humour  
**Status:**Complete  
**Pairing:** Quinn/Rachel  
**Rating:** T, PG-13. Fluff, mostly.  
**Words: **5,345  
**Summary:** Hairdryers. Really? Who the hell has a phobia of hairdryers?  
**Spoilers:**The whole Season 1.  
**Disclaimer:** I doubt this will be, but there are allusions to a phobia of hairdryers in this which may or may not trigger shit so if you think it will, avoid this, eh?  
**Note: **Written for Kari, aka angelic tourniquet's birthday, it's fluff, fluff and more fluff. I hope you like it. Title from Muse's 'Undisclosed Desires'.

* * *

**Three hours before Regionals**

"So where's the little munchkin?" Mercedes frowns as Quinn curls her hair swiftly.

"I don't know. She said she was getting her hair and everything done before she gets here though so I guess she can afford to not be hereright now." Quinn cocks her head to the side and looks down at Mercedes in the mirror critically. "Okay, you're done. Send Brittany over."

Mercedes grins at Quinn. "Seriously, Quinn, you got some _wicked_ talent with styling products. Pun intended." She experimentally shakes her head and chuckles when her hair, styled just right, sways gently with her and then goes right back into the same style.

A flash into the past, where her mother sang to her softly and fixed her hair, where her mother was famous in her line of work, where she didn't rely on Russell to take care of her, where she learned to do everything she could now do, where she developed a talent other than singing and back flips.

Quinn just smiles as Brittany bounds over and gives her a half-hug before dropping into the chair. She takes little note of the rest of the club as they scurry around the room with their last-minute preparations. The air is tense with excitement. This year, they would win. There was no doubt. There was no _room_ for doubt.

_Shushing the three of them, Rachel quickly slipped into the auditorium. The three Cheerios look at each other doubtfully but follow her in anyway. _

_Rachel tutted at the scene they saw. So, Vocal Adrenaline was trying for a new approach, were they? 'Phantom of the Opera' theme. Rachel Berry rolls her eyes and gestures for the trio to hurry up. "They're doing 'Phantom of the Opera'. As if I couldn't have guessed. Honestly, with their lack of talent at rousing a crowd's emotions, do they really think they'll be able to perform up to par? Also, Jesse St. James has left them, leaving them with lead singers who can barely hit the high notes they will most definitely need to hit if they want to even dream about taking the title of champi-"_

"_Get to the goddamn point, Berry. What are we going to do to beat this crap ass group?" Santana scowls, one arm around her girlfriend, Brittany. They had finally come out to the club amid exasperated 'Finally!'s' and money had exchanged hands between the less observant of them. (I.e. Finn paid everyone else off)._

_Rachel smiles evilly. In the half-light of the secluded area they are hiding in, Brittany leans away from her, creeped out. Quinn just sighs and says, "Knock it off and get to the point, Berry." They'd moved away from 'ManHands' and 'RuPaul', but they still weren't exactly _friends_. Lately though, Quinn found herself almost unconsciously veering towards a friendship with the short brunette. She stopped herself, though, from being more than teammates. There were only so many obstacles in your way that you could cut down before even a co-captainship with Santana Lopez was stripped away. It was all worth it though, ruling the school. Also, being (co)queen bees meant they were influential enough to keep all slushies away from all the glee club members, which everyone was grateful for._

_Smiling sweetly at the trio, Rachel says, "I know for a fact that two of the three judges are ABBA enthusiasts. And while I _don't_ approve of cheating, it's not really cheating when we're just going to play, or rather, sing, to our talents, correct? And so, this year, I'm fairly certain I'll be able to convince Mr. Schuester that we should do a medley of songs from a certain popular musical."_

_Quinn and Santana glance at each other, at the devious look on Rachel's face, then back at each other. After years of being best friends, worst frenemies and then best friends again, they manage to echo each others' thoughts at the exact same time. _"Mamma Mia!."

Mr. Schuester, unaware that some his beloved glee club members had once again, snuck into Carmel High, had very happily put forward the suggestion Rachel made. Kurt, having secured the solo for 'Take A Chance On Me' despite minor grumbling from one Rachel Berry, had no complaints. And all those practices had led them to today.

Quinn smirks when Santana casually wanders over to check out her girlfriend, who grasps Santana's hand while Quinn flutters around her, curling and blow-drying, teasing her hair just right. 15 minutes later, Puck, Mohawk firmly back on his head, flings himself into the vacated chair.

"You're kidding, right, Puckerman?" There has been no love lost between them. Puck, after a few days of 'heartache', went right back to charming the pants off the female population of McKinley High. Quinn couldn't be bothered with anything except her grades and her status. And she was rocking them both as a single lady.

"Nope. So, you gonna blow-dry me, Fabray?" Puck grins lewdly.

"That is disgusting. And there is nothing I can do with your hair, Puck. You have practically no hair. Move. Go outside and charm first place from the judges or something." Quinn twirls a comb around her fingers and glares at him dangerously.

Puck holds his hands up in surrender. "Can't go outside, though. It just started raining."

On cue, Quinn hears a distant peal of thunder. A thought hits her. "Where's Rachel?"

Puck shrugs.

**Two hours before Regionals**

With the rain falling down heavy and hard and still no sign of Rachel Berry, who, obviously, is their opening act, the rest of the glee clubbers are beginning to get worried. They're all slouching around, their phones out and either texting each other or scrolling through their lyrics. In one corner, Santana draws circles on Brittany's bare arm. Tina, sitting on Artie's lap, contentedly laughs with him. Mike and Finn half-nervously chat about some new game. It's pretty peaceful, considering the amount of stress they really are under. New year, same rule. Figgins is still determined that they either get first place or get out.

New year, not much difference, either. Glee club was as bitchy, with Kurt and Mercedes in one corner, and as full of storm-outs as ever, with Rachel in the other. Except that, strangely, Finn and Rachel were actually Finn and Rachel. Both had somehow remained single and both seemed happy enough about it. Quinn doesn't care. At all. Really.

Mr. Schuester, while he wrestles with his hair, (even Quinn couldn't do anything), reassures them that Rachel was on her way. Her dads were probably just caught in the traffic jam due to the rain and there was nothing to worry about.

Tense, but calm and buzzing with energy. Tense, but calm. Quinn taps out a rhythm on the dressing table, her hands occasionally reaching out to shift the hairdryer. Tense, but perfectly, completely, ca-

_Crash._ Rachel Berry, in her full glory, soaked in rain, fuming and annoyed, her costume in a waterproof bag by her side. Quinn feels a funny flip in her chest when she sees that the girl is dressed in shorts and a t-shirt that cling to her. She brushes it off and throws the star a dry towel that was lying on the chair, breaking the stunned silence of the other glee clubbers. The boys are quickly ushered out of the room 'to go have lunch' as the girls watch Rachel Berry grumpily (and very swiftly) dries herself off and changes into a matching costume.

Go-go dresses and mini-skirts, bell-bottoms on the guys, hair appropriately disco-fied, as Kurt delightedly put it, they looked like they all just stepped off the stage of an ABBA concert.

Well, except Rachel. She looked a little bit like something the cat dragged in. Her hair was still dripping wet and she was beginning to shiver from the cold. "What happened?" Mercedes, frank and curious.

Looking annoyed, Rachel slumps down onto a chair and rubs the towel through her hair. "My dads were supposed to have me here an hour ago but then they met a friend who they just couldn't get away from and then after that we got stuck in the rain and by the time we got to the rental place…" She rolls her eyes. "Never again. But it's raining like crazy outside and I'm pretty sure it's going to flood and we're all just going to die and-"

"Shut up, Berry,' Quinn absent-mindedly takes the towel from Rachel and start drying her hair off with much more effective strokes. "Thanks,' the smaller girl murmurs.

"You look like a drowned rat, Berry,' Santana throws out with her usual amount of tact. "That's mean, San. Let's go have lunch.' Brittany pouts. The cheerleader smirks and spins her out of the room. "Catch you in a bit, Q!" she adds before following her girlfriend.

A short silence, then Tina breaks in with a, "It's true. You look terrible."

Rachel glares at them in the dressing room mirror. "I had my hair and makeup done before I came here. Luckily, the makeup seems to still be mostly here, but obviously, my hair wasn't waterproof. Just give me time, okay? My hair will look fine in an hour. We will win this thing."

With a shrug, Mercedes and Tina depart to go look for the rest of their team. And food. Food was important if one wanted enough energy to perform well for a performance. Rachel Berry had not been gentle with her winners' regimen. She could've rivaled Sue Sylvester in terms of scary insanity if Mr. Schuester hadn't stepped in to control her at the very last moment.

Rachel glances up and sees that Quinn is just standing there. "Aren't you going to go eat with them? You should, you know. If you don't, you won't have sufficient energy to-"

"I know, Berry. Relax. I've just been designated hairstylist of the day so I'll help you with your hair, okay?" With that, Quinn picks up the hairdryer. She misses the way Rachel flinches away from it.

"I can do it myself, Quinn, really, I'm quite capable of-"Rachel desperately reaches out a hand to stop Quinn from using it on her, but Quinn has already flicked the on switch. The noise from the hairdryer is barely loud enough to cover the sound of Rachel's sudden short piercing yell as she falls to the ground in a heap.

Quinn blanches and hurriedly turns it off. She hasn't electrocuted the girl, has she? Oh crap.

But no, Rachel is just trembling on the ground next to the chair. Quinn reaches out a hand to touch her on the shoulder and Rachel flinches. "Don't,' she moans before curling into herself. The look on her face is full of fear. She looks like a trapped animal.

Quinn stops. "Ber- Rachel. What's wrong?" She asks gently. She's never seen the girl look so… afraid and shaken.

In response, Rachel just trembles harder. She pulls her knees up to her chest and buries her face into them. "Don't, I don't want to, please, don't, I don't like it, please, don't…" She repeats the phrase over and over again like a talisman against evil as Quinn watches helplessly. "Rachel…" she reaches her arm out again. She has no idea what is going on. The brunette looks like a child, young and afraid.

With a sound that is a cross between a terrified squeal and a murderous growl, Rachel launches herself at Quinn. "Don't you dare come near me with that thing!" she screams into Quinn's ear as her hands flail out an elbow hits Quinn in her guy. Quinn grunts in pain. In the moment before Rachel is trying to scratch her eyes out, she sees that the shorter girls' brown eyes are dilated and wide, unseeing.

And then she's smacking the girl's hands away and dodging her kicking legs. Babbled words reach her ears. 'No!' 'Don't want to!' Short bursts of yelling. Quinn wonders why no one has been to check on them, but then she remembers the glance she had taken of the map. The cafeteria was far, far away, and the door was closed. Shit.

At the back of her mind, Quinn is aware that she has decided to stop trying to not hurt Rachel and do something she has only ever read about to try to subdue her. She falters a second, which in turn confuses Rachel, and then she pushes forward and grips the girl from behind. Her arms come up to wrap around Rachel's upper torso and her legs around her legs. Now they're both on the floor as Rachel struggles to get free and Quinn struggles to keep her from hurting them both. Unbidden, words tumble out of her lips into Rachel's ear. Her words are soft, soothing and meaningless.

"Shh, Rachel, it's okay, I've got you, don't worry, it's okay… Rachel, relax, I've got you," It's _her_ mantra to counter Rachel's fear, her words against the other girls'. More than once, as Rachel flings her head to get away, her ear hits Quinn's lips and the blonde can taste sweat and rainwater, but somehow, there's a steely taste. _Fear. _She can tell.

But Rachel's shuddering stops slowly. Her trembling slows down and she stops fighting. She curls up against Quinn and suddenly instead of holding a trapped animal trying to get away, Quinn is holding Rachel Berry, small and afraid, against her chest. "It's okay, Rachel, it's okay." She runs her hands lightly through Rachel's hair and down her back, small, fluttering touches that the smaller girl seems to melt into.

Quinn realises that her back is pressed uncomfortably against the chair but right then she doesn't care. What matters is that Rachel, breathing heavily and shivering lightly, is in her arms and her head is resting on Rachel's shoulder. What matters is they're pressed far too close for comfort between two not-friends and her back is in a really awkward position and so her arms are aching and a bruise is definitely forming somewhere on her stomach but goddamn if holding _Rachel Berry_ doesn't make her feel so completely relaxed despite the situation.

The situation. What _was_ the situation? Rachel, seeing and hearing the hair dryer; Rachel, freaking out. Rachel, slowly coming up to look Quinn in the eyes nervously.

"Are you okay?" Quinn keeps her voice soft; afraid of saying anything that would set the small girl off again.

Rachel nods and looks away, suddenly aware that she is sitting on Quinn's lap. Embarrassed, she scrambles up off the floor. "I'm sorry about that,' she mumbles, reaching out a hand to help Quinn up.

Quinn looks up at Rachel curiously and then takes her hand, pulling herself up. She gestures towards the worn sofa in the corner of the room and Rachel settles into it tiredly. Quinn sits down next to her. "What happened?" she asks simply.

"I have this irrational fear... It's called electrotrichothermoxerophobia. It's a fear of hairdryers. My dads told me that when I was really young, they left me with this hairdresser they trusted. He accidentally almost killed me with a faulty hairdryer. Since then, I've also had weaslaphobia, which is a fear or hairdressers. It's just something I've never been able to get over. I do my own hair. It takes forever, even with the hairdryer my dads got me that is probably the quietest hairdryer that will ever be made. But it's easier, when it's my own hand holding that object of evil." Rachel says all this is a measured voice, but she glares over at the hairdryer during her last sentence.

Quinn frowns as she takes this all in. "So every morning..."

"Yes, that's why I get up so early every morning and though I may never trust any hairdressers every again, my hair still looks good every day. It's important to maintain a good image, Quinn, as you're fully aware." And then Rachel is looking into her eyes with a past full of years of torture and then after that, barest acknowledgement. Quinn unconsciously reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Rachel's ear.

"I'm sorry." They know Quinn is apologising for more than what happened a minute ago. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay. I almost thought I was over it. No one's approached me with a hairdryer for years and so it's been years since I've had an episode like that." She laughs humourlessly. "This is one weakness no amount of practice will be able to help. I hate it."

"Yeah? You're okay now,' Quinn comments before blurted out, 'and I still need to fix your hair."

"What?" Rachel looks confused.

Quinn can't explain it, but there is a burning desire in her to make Rachel trust _her_, to let _her_ do her hair, to let _her_ help her 'weakness'. She can't explain it, doesn't want to, and doesn't need to. She just wants to do it, _has_ to do it.

Rachel squirms in her seat when she sees the completely determined look on Quinn's face. The last time she'd looked this determined 3 months ago, _someone _(Karofsky) had wound up in a dumpster, covered in cherry slushie. She hopes nothing quite like that was going to happen again. "Quinn, what do you think you're going to do?"

"I'm going to do your hair,' Quinn says matter-of-factly.

Rachel shrinks back into the sofa and Quinn stands over her. "No, you're not. Please, Quinn, just let me do it myself."

Quinn instinctively crouches at Rachel's feet. "I won't hurt you, Rachel. I swear. Trust me. Let me try to help you." She gazes up into Rachel's brown eyes and she swallows as she finds herself unable to look away. They were just so _compelling_ and there was something vulnerable in those big, brown eyes that she just wanted to protect...

Rachel clears her throat quietly. "Okay. Let's try this."

Quinn leads her to the chair, this time not missing the wary glance Rachel throws at the hair dryer. She lets Rachel squirm for a few seconds, and then she takes the comb and moves towards Rachel's head. "It's just me,' she reminds the girl. Rachel nods, but her grip tightens around the edge of the seat.

The blonde runs the comb through Rachel's hair in smooth strokes, gently untangling whatever had gotten tangled up during her... episode. Quinn realises that Rachel Berry, despite or perhaps because of her fear for the hair dryer, has very nice hair. It's soft and silky and just perfect, honestly.

She blushes when it hits her that she's been playing needlessly with _Rachel Berry_'s hair for the better part of three minutes. And Rachel's letting her. In fact, the brunette seems pretty relaxed. Her breathing is slow and she has her head comfortably pressed against Quinn's delicate fingers. Afraid of breaking the tentative peace they seem to have, Quinn leans down and murmurs, "I'm going to use the evil hairdryer of doom now, okay?"

Rachel tenses up, but murmurs her assent. Quinn reaches over and braces herself before turning the machine on with the lowest setting. The noise makes Rachel swallow hard and clutch at the seat of her chair, but her eyes are closed and she doesn't bolt from the chair, which reassures Quinn slightly. She doesn't know where the words come from, but she murmurs into Rachel's ear, "I don't want you to hide."

With a gentle hand, she brushes Rachel's shoulder and the girl seems to again calm down slightly. Working quickly then, Quinn does her magic on Rachel's hair. Every few minutes, she reaches down with a free hand and Rachel reaches up for a quick, reassuring grab of her hand. Quinn's not sure, but her hand definitely seemed to hold on a bit too possessively then.

**One hour before Regional's**

When the rest of the club walk back in, they're surprised to see Rachel Berry sitting on the sofa about negative 2 inches from Quinn Fabray. The two girls had been talking quietly, their heads close together, but they hastily moved to opposite ends of the small sofa when the door burst open.

Brittany, grinning mischievously, tugs a confused Santana over to the couch. Brittany lets go of Santana's hand to drop into the small space between the two girls. "Hi Rachel!" she greets cheerfully. Rachel smiles and returns the greeting in kind.

Santana raises an eyebrow at Quinn, who innocently shrugs and looks away, avoiding the other girl's sudden piercing gaze. Santana's eyes dart from Quinn to Rachel and widen considerably. She smirks and drops into Brittany's lap.

Quinn tells them to knock it off when they start making out with each others' necks. Santana tells her to get herself a girlfriend because "Seriously, Q, don't take out your sexual frustration on me. It's not my fault you haven't had sex in months." Quinn spends a whole 10 seconds burning Santana with her laser eyes before stalking off to fix Finn's hair, which, really, couldn't and shouldn't possibly be that big.

**5 minutes before Regional's**

"Okay, you guys, this is it. Everything we've worked for in the past couple of months has come down to _this_ moment. You know the lyrics, you know the moves, and you have the energy. Remember, no matter what happens after this, the only thing that matters is each other. Perform as one. You are a team. No, you're more than that. You're a family. So you go out there and you show the judges that. You knock 'em dead." Mr. Schuester desperately tries not to tear up at the sight of his (still only) 12 member club huddled together holding each others' hands.

At a nod from Artie, they converge on him at the same time for a quick group hug. Mr. Schuester, choking up (as usual), returns the hug. They stand like that for a few seconds, just 13 bodies breathing in tandem, the nervous excitement in the air so tense they could taste it. Quinn realises that she's next to Rachel. She automatically takes the girl's hand. Rachel briefly smiles up at her, squeezing her hand back gently.

And then they're being ushered onstage, 6 members taking their places on the left and another 6 on the right and then... Seconds before Rachel leads the way out, she turns back and her eyes lock on Quinn's. The light from the stage illuminates her beaming face and Quinn's breath catches in her throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, our first performance of the evening, winner of the Central Ohio Sectionals, McKinley High's 'New Directions'!" And then the music starts and the crowd roars their approval as the band starts playing the familiar, immediately recognizable notes.

'_My my, at waterloo napoleon did surrender! Oh yeah, and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way__. __The history book on the shelf__, i__s always repeating itself!' _

**Regional's**

The 6 girls and 6 boys met in the middle, with Rachel and Finn taking centre stage. They start swaying as a group, and then their feet are taking them through the steps they'd practiced to many times. Santana is twirling Brittany and Finn is spinning Mercedes past Puck and Quinn, singing the same part as Rachel and Tina, is being held on either side by the two girls and they're taking centre stage and every member of the crowd above the age of 40, an unsurprisingly large amount, considering most of them are parents of the performers, is singing along. The bass thuds and the air practically crackles with energy and they're all somehow singing and beaming like fools and then, like so many times before, Brad sweeps his fingers across the keys and takes them into the next song.

The club surrounds Rachel, singing to her. '_Y__ou can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life__. __See that girl, watch that scene, diggin' the dancing queen.'_ She beams and steps through them to sing her part. '_Friday night and the lights are low__. __Looking out for the place to go._'

They're supposed to be looking at the audience, but when Quinn sings her part, her eyes are somehow focused off to the side on Rachel, who is also gazing at her. '_You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen._' Behind her, the rest of the club back up her vocals and she continues with '_Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine.' _She should look to the audience, but her eyes can't leave Rachel. They are spinning and twirling now and the lights shimmer and Rachel, in gold, looks like the star she so longs to be.

And then they slide into 'Mamma Mia'. The crowd roars their approval and Quinn focuses back on them. They lean into each other during the chorus in a lower volume and leap apart after that to let Rachel, then Santana, have the spotlight. It's addictive watching the audience move with them, heads bobbing, feet tapping. Being on stage right now: that was what it was all about.

It's a mash up between 'Mamma Mia' and 'Take A Chance On Me' and it took them ages to make it work, but it was perfect. They go from the first song to the second, with Kurt getting his much coveted solo with Finn accompanying him. Having gotten over his crush, it was easy for them to sing together, no hard feelings.

And then they whirl sharply back to 'Mamma Mia'. They had planned the choreography just right. As they sing the final line "_m__y my, I should not have let you go!"_, they twirl into position in the middle of the stage, six girls in the middle, three boys to each side, an imitation of 'ABBA'. They stand for a few seconds, unable to believe that the deafening cheers are for them, and then they're making quick bows and running off the stage.

**3 minutes after 'New Direction's' Regional's performance (Backstage)**

Hugs and screams and whooping all around. Santana hangs onto Brittany's neck and they spin in the middle of the room, oblivious to the rest of the club. Tina, seated on Artie's lap, squeals as he spins her around on his wheelchair. The boys thump each other on the back and they all fall over one another onto the bigger sofa, laughing heartily.

"This one is ours!" Finn pumps his fist into the air. He's met by the enthusiastic cheers of a group of people who are still running on adrenaline and the high of being on stage.

Mr. Schuester is there then and hugs are exchanged all around again. Rachel throws herself at Quinn without warning, toppling them onto the sofa. "You sounded amazing,' Quinn blurts out. Rachel beams and says, "Thank you, Quinn! You did as well." They settle onto the sofa and then the 12 members are grinning nervously at each other.

"It's in the bag, you guys. You were _amazing._ No matter what happens, I'm proud of all of you." Mr. Schuester and his usual sap bring even wider smiles to their faces. The judges this year are, thank god, actual professionals who know what they're doing instead of random celebrities.

**45 minutes after all the performances**

On stage again, a sense of déjà vu. They did this a year ago and the outcome had not been pleasant. Rachel glances over to where Vocal Adrenaline stands, but a stern-looking blonde man stands at the head of the club. Shelby Corcoran is nowhere to be seen. The girls wear frilly white dresses and the boys are in masks and cravats. They look smug and confident, but then, so do the members from 'Song and Mirrors', the third club that's competing. A hard pit of worry settles in her gut as the judges stoically come out onstage.

A soft hand takes hold of hers and a familiar, breathy voice whispers into her ear, "Relax. This year the title is _ours._" Rachel smiles weakly at the clapping crowd.

"Thank you all for coming here today. The 2011 Midwest Regional's Runners-up, from Akron, Ohio, 'Vocal Adrenaline!'"

Jaws drop. 'Vocal Adrenaline' look torn between being delighted at the win or being disappointed that they, for once, had not taken the title of champion. Eventually, delight wins out and they cheer, jump around with the trophy and go off stage, whooping. 'New Directions' moves to the middle of the stage to stand next to 'Songs and Mirrors'. Really, who called their glee club '_Songs and Mirrors'?_ They cast each other disdainful glances as silence falls around them.

"And now,' the burly man rumbles, his voice dramatically dipping low, 'your 2011 Midwest Regional's Show Choir Champions..."

"New –" No one quite hears the second part of his sentence, but it doesn't matter, because they're screaming and crying and the crowd is on its feet, roaring its approval. The Tina is weeping with joy and Brittany is kissing a surprised Santana who returns the kiss happily enough. Finn looks like he's in shock, but then Puck fist bumps him and then he's grinning so wide he thinks his face might crack. Mercedes and Kurt are hugging and squealing with joy and Kurt looks like he's about to hyperventilate.

Rachel turns around to hug whoever happens to be next to her and finds herself and armful of Quinn Fabray. They're laughing with joy and disbelief because as confident as they were, no one knew how it would have gone. And then they somehow Rachel is on Puck and Matt's shoulders and they're helping her raise the trophy and Quinn is smiling brilliantly at her and something in the air just makes Rachel jump off the boys and then she's a centimetre from Quinn's face.

Time stops and they're sharing air and Rachel realises that Quinn's eyes aren't just hazel, they're green with flecks of hazel and gold and beautiful and they're staring right into her soul. Her breath catches in her throat. The club surrounds them, instinctively blocking them from view but still celebrating wildly.

With such deep brown eyes looking right at her, Quinn finds that she can't look away and she can't think of what to say or do. "Your hair looks amazing." No idea where it comes from, but a blush follows it.

"Thank you,' Rachel breathes, 'but the pleasure's all mine." Before Quinn can point out that her response did not make sense, the brunette's arms are around her neck and soft lips are caressing her own and a warm body is pressed up against hers. She snakes her arms around Rachel's waist, returning the kiss fully, pent up want crashing out of her through her lips. She can dimly hear the sound of catcalls, but what does that matter when Rachel Berry is in her arms kissing her with passion and joy and probably delirium because that's what she feels as well.

The kiss last forever and only a few seconds. She pants lowly against Rachel's lips, her forehead pressing against the other girl's. Rachel grins up at her broadly. Quinn's lips twitch and she can't help but grin back. She can taste Rachel on her lips. She tastes like vanilla lip gloss and happiness.

When they walk off stage as a group, Quinn's arm is wrapped loosely around Rachel and Rachel is pressed up against her side. "Hey, Quinn?"

"Yeah?" She can't help the sappy smile that takes over her face at the sound of her name coming from Rachel's mouth.

"I'm really glad we won."

Quinn smirks and leans down to capture her... (girlfriend? New friend? Whatever, they'd figure it out later)'s lips. "I'm really glad we won, too,' she says against her mouth. And then they're kissing again and there's no one there but them even though they're still thronged by the club. Them and the taste of Rachel's lips and the feel of Quinn's soft hands in her hair and the relish of a perfect moment.

Oh, and there's the trophy, too.


End file.
